


Ancient Abhoristory

by kasher



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adultery, Blackmail, Child Neglect, F/M, Genocide, Guilt, Manipulation, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Loathing, Teenage Pregnancy, blood castes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasher/pseuds/kasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ampora," my parched throat rasped, making up in liquid venom what I couldn't in spit. "Where is Nepeta!" I demand, he is one highblood that will never command me.</p><p>"Hm, wwas that the gutterblood bitch I enjoyed just a wwhile ago? Oar the one I wwas headed to next? No, next on the bucket list is that rustblood whore of yoars."</p><p>Perfectly aligned razor sharp teeth glint out from his wicked sneer. I want to break every single one. "Where is my olive blood!"</p><p>"Don't get your bulge in a vice. Other Zahaaks have come befoar you, gone further than you, but yoar fate will be no different. But befoar I do a bit of story tellin', tell me wwhat that gutterblood bitch wwas to ya. Poor whore wwas too wriggly to get an answwer out of, but she's still noww."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fated Failure

In alternate timeline #2,363 a session of a horrific game that could literally tear apart worlds just by it's inception has luckily been avoided on a planet its pseudo-natives call Alternia. Perhaps it would have been just as well if it had been played for, as it is, the planet's top sentient troll inhabitants have wasted the world with their wicked wars and brutal reign.

* * *

The conquerers casted their cold blooded races superior to the cool, warm, and hot blooded hues of their species. Whatever the lesser casted trolls did to stand against the high bloods exploded in their faces and the faces of the uninvolved; every lower blooded troll felt the splatter. Even the blood ranks highest to theirs were not pardoned the carnage. Only the tip top fuschia blood hue could not be held to it, but should call and deliver for it. This was until the demise of the infamously pink colored baker, Her Imperial Condescension, at the hands of the last Great Rebellion, or her right hand Orphaner Dualscar. History could not settle over whom so Dualscar made the executive decision himself as the new, self proclaimed ruler of all Alternia and its colonies.

"Twwvvas the Lowwvvbloods."

Even before the regal Batter Witch's culling, the planet wore closer to an uninhabitable rock space. Now under the salty claw of the Himperial Codlord, the lowly inhabitants could not expect a more vicious iron fisted rule but in a way they got one. Dualscar planned to leave Alternia in search of new planetary conquests to colonize. Low blooded masses would be left to wither away like the planet they suffered on. Only a pardoned fistful of millions, a small number compared to the billions upon billions, would survive to serve the high bloods as soon as they were wasted.

Only a whisper of their fate blew through the lands, but even without this knowledge the lowbloods planned for one last bang of an uprising while Dualscar neglected them for the conquest of spaces. If history repeats itself then the low blooded trolls knew to anticipate another atrocity the high bloods would fling to beat them down.

At the high staked expense of blood, home, and fears, the Rebellion came close to winning if only... Dualscar had not already been dead and his spawn, Prince Eridan Ampora, had not claimed his father's throne. Though, like the Condesce's demise, Dualscar's end came at the hand of a historically undetermined culler. The Rebellion lost too much for so little and fell to worse hardship. Yet the breath of those almost triumphant murmured a prayer to the one they claimed culled the Codlord, one hope to grasp for. The last Princess, beWitcher of Life.

The Condesce left her legacy in a grub she only lived to dub as Feferi before either the Rebellion's leaders or her Orphaner culled her. This grub was ordered to live and be raised by her late mother's lusus Gl'bgolyb and the middle casted warmbloods of a jade hue. In a last spurn to her mother whom supposedly rejected Dualscar's advances, the Codlord made a pail slave out of the Princess when he deemed her physically ready at the ripe age of six sweeps.

The rebels present at that gory scene believed that the supposedly extinct fuschia blooded troll of now indeterminable sweeps, shivering under a layer of tangled hair and mixed fluids before them, carved out the throat of the Codlord with his own broken off horn, the same one she wrapped her discolored knuckles over when they discovered her. Evident rot and bodily wastes served as an estimate of how long Feferi had been alone with the body, too long.

The young Ampora could not have stopped them from busting out the beWitcher of Life at a worse time but from their short acquaintance the rebels could tell that the young sea troll Feferi had the potential to be trusted and lead their species away from their self-destructive direction and into a new age. Those trolls only lived to tell the tale because the new self-proclaimed ruler only had ocular sacks for the battered looking female with his father's color splattered all over her. Once he got to Princess Feferi any other troll still standing could only hope to be able bodied enough to scram out of the ship before the young Ampora shot it down to oblivion.

None of the survivors knew what the Prince did with the beWitcher. Most believed he culled her to secure his position, others also suggested that he had her concieve an egg with him before culling her. Some, like my father and his moirail believed that, no matter what she had gone through, the last Princess was still alive.

I, my father's son, and my moirail, his moirail's daughter, believe the same and we will do what our predecessors couldn't. Ampora will fall and Feferi will be the rightful ruler. This I swear on my blood and name, Equius of the Expatriate Haus Zahaak, Heir of Void and last of my mold, B100d of B100 and Exceptionally STRONG in my Diamond and Heart Quadrants.

... But I failed.

•¤•¤

The last thing I remember is, "Nepeta!"

My eyes adjust to the darkness, searching for a trace of my moirail. I haven't realized I have yet to inhale since I roused. As soon as my thinkpan uses the oxygen, my ancient high blood instinct urges me to immediately fight my way out of my prison, but the troll who held my pale feelings urges me more.

I picture a memory from my worst horrorterrors:

_I stole away through the darkness of the ship's dungeons. Being a highblood, I could see well enough into the dark but the lack of guards unsettled me. I haven't encantered any since my discreet breaking and entering on higher levels of the vessel when I dispatched a couple sea dwellers and carefully disposed of them. It was Nepeta's assignment to run ahead and "take care" of obstacles while the psiioniic erased our trace. He provided a map and route where Feferi would most likely be located. Nepeta and I would then regroup with the Princess through a path secured by the psiioniic._

_Acquiring Princess Feferi was of paramount importance before an attempt on Ampora was made. With Feferi on our side the war would be half won already._

_But Nepeta has not contacted me or the psiioniic._

_Come to think of it, she has not left any trace or sound that I could follow, and highbloods have exceptional senses. An attempt at communicating with him did not yield me the horrible lisp of his voice but quirkless, yellow guide text informing me that Nepeta was en route with the plan._

_Something was not right._

_Anger twitched under my calm exterior. Even though he was recommended by the rebel leaders and he was my matesprit's moirail, that was too suspicious. Whether the psiioniic was captured or he betrayed us didn't matter. The fact that the plan couldn't be followed through anymore didn't matter. Not as much as regrouping with Nepeta did. I decided to abandon the mission as soon as I escaped with my moirail but I loathed to admit we could not escape without the help of the 'psiionic'._

_I would have to follow his suspicious text and improvise an escape after I had found Nepeta with the now unlikely addition of the Princess. Alas,the ship was a labrynthian fortress that I was not familiar with._

_Patches of violet blood encouraged me when traces of olive accompanied them. Even Nepeta's lithe body and flash reflexes couldn't bring her out of every violent confrontation unscathed. But where did she dispose of the bodies? This dungeon hall stretched for perigees, it seemed, but the one way cells held no freshly culled sea dwellers._

_When traces of olive became splashes and spills I was beyond alarmed. I didn't care if this was a trap. I stormed to the end of the hall and slammed my way through the last door, guards or none I felt unstoppable in my rage._

_But that suddenly changed._

_Long needled darts immediately shot through my thick hide. What I thought would attempt to calm me into subconsciousness would later prove to be pure doses of horrorterror inducing hallucinogens, strong enough to overtake even someone of my STRENGTH._

_"One step closer and I slit her open, again." Nepeta half hung in the bruising hold of the last troll I hoped to encounter. I was face to face with the monstrous spawn himself._

_"Eridan Ampora," the hate I felt had less to do with his notorious infamy and more to do with the badly beaten state that my moirail hung in by his claws._

_With one hand that easily circled both her blackened wrists, he pinned her arms above her. Her top was violently stretched thin to show her viciously bitten chest but it barely concealed her middle. Olive green spotted the bottom and ran down her bare legs. The black trousers she wore were missing._

_My moirail lifted her bloody, bowed head and spat out her panties. "Equius kill the meowtherfucker! A-ah~" I didn"t notice where his other hand was until he stirred it in her nook. More olive green ran down her writhing legs._

_"Littlest Zahaak, givve up or she's fucked." He wiped his coated rings on her sweaty hair and crushed her wrists more when she feebly tried to bite him. "Wwell, fucked wworse."_

_"Let her go or so help me I'll ~!" I froze in place and trembled, partly because of the drugs starting to circulate. He traced the back of his sharp ringed hand across her neck and left thin lines of little olive beads to grow full and fall. "No!"_

_"Do you care for her gutter blood? Then I suggest you surrender and tell me every thin' you knoww. I don't think she can take much more," his dark sneer soured. "If your ancestors had surrendered themselvves all that time ago then this nevver wwould havve needed to happen," he shouted, roughly kneading a breast and twisting her abused nipple._

_"Equius waste his ass, please!" She screeched from a pain I could only watch. Why was I suddenly so lame?_

_"I bet you my left horn some part a her is in ecstasy," with that he licked two sqwiggley violet lines across her swollen cheek._

_She whips her head away in disgust but he pulls it up with the rest of her small body. To both our sickening horror he shoves his pointed tongue down her throat, somewhat suffocating her._

_"No!" Nepeta bit him hard enough to bleed and loosen her wrists. She crumpled to the floor with tears finally breaking across her face._

_"She lovves it," he wiped her off his smirk then viciously kicked my moirail halfway to me. I could only do one thing._

_"All right, I surrender! I'll tell you whatever you want but please show her mercy."_

_"You betta."_

•¤•¤

A shaft of blinding light fell over my form and the memory was momentarily forgotten. I long for my dark shades even in the condition they would be by now, cracked from a fall too deep to see the bottom of. Fully awake, I saw my binds as well as felt them around deep blue bruises. I would admire their enduring workmanship if a sliding door had not brought a slim figure through a flood of distractingly bright light.

"Nepeta?" The figure fills out into a tall troll before the door shuts, impeding the light from revealing more. I didn't need the new path of lights to see it could never be my moirail in a million sweeps.

"Ampora," my parched throat rasps, making up in liquid venom what I couldn't in spit.

"Loww blood lovving landwweller!" He threw up his arms like he were paying his moirail a visit after perigees instead of meeting a prisoner who had tried to end his rule. He looks skinny without his father's cape on, as far as seadwellers go. I tell him so except with a bit more scath. He laughs, it also comes out thinner than it should. "Comin' frond a blue buoy I almost filleted and bled. Lucky for you I'm more of a riflekind a guy."

I have yet to notice anything besides the rings around my binds. But it's true, blue rips crisscross my tough grey hide. For some reason I'm not dead, yet. "Where is Nepeta!" I demand, he is one highblood that will never command me.

"Hm, wwas that the gutterblood bitch I enjoyed just a wwhile ago?" I strain against my binds until I could feel my blue blood boiling on the outside, but he didn't even flinch when I lunge too close for any troll's comfort. "Oar the one I wwas headed towwards next? No, next on the bucket list is that rustblood whore of yoars."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" It must have been a look in my ocular sacks that let him know I wasn't so sure. My matesprit Aradia couldn't have followed me. I specifically ordered her not to. Maybe that's why she might have? Perfectly aligned razor sharp teeth glint out from his wicked sneer. I want to break every single one. "Now tell me where is my olive blood!"

"Pfft, other Zahaaks have come befoar you, gone further than you, but yoar fate will be no different." I growl vehemently, trying to supress a raging roar with my binds already tout tight. "Oh don't get your bulge in a vice. You might like the full 'extent' a this fate." He steps halfway in my ring of light, head high and corrective ocular wear reflecting white light at me. "But befoar I do a bit of story tellin', tell me wwhat that gutterblood bitch wwas to ya. Poor whore wwas too wriggly to get a proper answwer out of, but she's still noww."

"If you lay one slimy claw on her-" My binds suddenly reel, pulling me down on the platform table. The click of his footsteps fell behind my head and his cold, stiff hands forcefully fix my line of view to the unwelcoming light with a strength exclusive to his blood color. Thumb claws flood my aural cannals with blood, his spindly fingers shift over my temples and settle the tips over my sight. Then he presses his claws into the corners.

He knew the wet trails searing down my face were not tears.

"This is nofin' to ya, huh? Shoulda guessed you could take moar than that lowwlier wriggler. She's probably nofin' moar than a pail for hire." I don't rage back. Too much genetic material is leaving my body and flooding my senses.

"No, she's... my moirail," I black out.


	2. Is The Nightmare Over?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have a short chappie here!  
> Equius dreams something deep and fierce and sinister.
> 
>  
> 
> (foreshadowing Alert)

"Oh, Cod _damn_ it," Eridan releases his bruising hold from the bleeding orifices of his recent capture. "Ya blacked out too soon! Ugh," He tries to shake off the moist blue from his hands but the stains under his fingernails and rings remain to disgust him. "Fuckin' filthy land swwill," he regards the substance.

With a baleful sideglance to the latest generation of usurping traitors he shudderes, "Yoar smirkin'?... Wwell, grandfather did alwways say you Zahhaks wwere a piece of wwork." A horsehoe sneer contorts his face. "It's gonna be a lot of fun breakin' ya then."

"Can't havve ya beat b'foar then, though, can I?" A snap of his fingers transformes the platform into an inground pseudo-recuperacoon. In seconds it flows with brightly glowing and fast acting sopor slime over the blue-blood's bound form. "You probably can't hear a wword I'm saying but believve me this is no mercy. At least wwhen you wwere awwake yoar nightmares wwere asleep. Evven in this special slop ya aren't safe." He spits inside the slime before traipsing away and out of the room, leaving a cackle to seep into the subconscious of Equius Zahhak's void.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

_A humoured echo uglier than any Subjugulator's bleat of cyanide and happiness is ripped away in every direction of a hellish wind, eventually whipping back to fill the hollow shell that has become of Equius Zahhak for a fleeting eternity of torment. He is what he ate, a vegetable of bones and blood and muscle memory, moved about by a pupeteer playing with their food, their prey._

_Visions of a shriveled up waif tug at his disembodied soul a thousand lives away. The seelie silhouette of her feline frame is easily placed. "She's my moirail." The words form on paper skin and string him along like a leather kite writhing in a tornado. Just like that he materializes out of the blue and behind a skeletal figure of shivering sinew sitting in a pool of slick sopor slime._

_From behind a head of short dirty hair and eroded horns comes a murmur as familiar as the shape of the crumbling protrusions above, "Gaze long into the abhiss and the abhiss also gazes into mew..." The master to his marionette grants him opportunity to approach and caress her shedding tail into a disintegrating wish of downy blue dandelion fibers. Equius noticed the hand with which he unraveled her tail, his amputated bond to her, is an unfathomable darkness he can overlook only for the worse realization that she sits not in a pool of sopor but of her own violated gore. It seeps over the edge, which she has such a dangerous proximity to, and flows down a yawning drop as bottomless as Death's appetite. Across it is an all consuming absence of light._

_"Gaze long into the abhiss and the abhiss also gazes into mew." Like the mirth ripped away from earlier, her voice bounces back whole and rejected from the tenebrous depths that mirror the plane of his existence. That infinite venta black is his petrifying reflection._

_The fates who pulled his strings snap and drop his falling arms over her broken body in an incinerating embrace that dissolves her flesh into ash and star dust. Her irretrievable soul covers the mirror plane in the majesty of her essence and paints the glittering universe over his lightless legacy. Every glimmering strobe light sphere of brilliance and abstract sculpture of luminous nebula is unwelcome and unwanted. Swirling galaxies of interstellar systems orbiting the beckoning pull of black holes and the beautiful chemistry that produces the miracle of life and evolution is insignificant and irrelevant. The stars can keep shining and life may resume but Equius wants none of it if she's not there._

_He falls in the empty air that replaced her being and met the crumbling floor where her blood and defiled innocence quenched the world's end before it created the universe he and his reflection bowed after. "Ne... pe - ta?" She can't be gone. She isn't! She still occupies space as effortlessly fluid and touchingly wily as before... before - his feverish thoughts won't supply "death" for the life of him, as if it can reverse hers just by refusing it. That's it._

_The blasphemous solution made perfect sense when the cliff side cracks and plummets into the unknown with him. If she is now the shining stars and promising life then he will have every single light and soul borne from her sacrifice. With every independent fiber left to his powerful control he expelled every unoriginal particle and more with the forced exhalation and excessive sweating of his effort. Equius didn't stop until his insides almost collapsed in despite his solid, albeit empty, frame. The blue blood threw his head back into the thick of the dark matter and caught his fangs around constellations of starry galaxies. He swallowed them whole and washed them down with colorful mists of nebulae and supernovae. Faster and Faster he inhaled the universe into his void until nothing more remained, not even thin air._

Despite everything he somehow hears the same taunting mirth from before haunting him still.

◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Rivers of blue fanned out like a delta over green and then thinned into nothing until every pore and injury sealed over the remaining blood. The slick sweat pouring off of the blue blood's unconscious body and pungeant with atypical fear quickly washed away in the flow of sopor.

Equius burst into consiousness with a high blood raging rush of strength.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His dream was written as clearly as he dreampt it. Is it still too murcurial? Well let me break it down for ya'll!
> 
> >Wicked laughter is carried by the wind.  
> >Equius is hollow, empty, a shell of a troll.  
> >He does not control himself.  
> >He keeps seeing images of a frail child-like figure and recognizes her.  
> >He somehow finds himself behind Nepeta who faces an abyss.  
> >A grazing touch undoes her tail.  
> >He sees his hand is pure darkness.  
> >He also sees she sits in a pool of her blood and genetic material.  
> >She repeats a phrase with her quirk thrown in.  
> >He realizes the abyss is his reflection.  
> >Whatever is controlling him stops.  
> >His touch unmakes her and she essentially becomes the universe.  
> >He plans to bring her back by essentially swallowing the universe.  
> >That horrible laughter returns.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a piece of shit so don't expect quick updates. I am the deadbeat mom of updates.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed my baby anyway! It's my first on here.


End file.
